


Snowy Skies

by shinetheway



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Jogging, M/M, Marvel 616 (Freeform)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:52:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinetheway/pseuds/shinetheway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s sweating despite the cold, but his toes are freezing and his sweatpants are soaked to the knee with slushy water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowy Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to MemoryDragon for her prompt "heaters", Teyke for sprinting with me, and Semebay for her wonderful beta. Any mistakes remaining are most definitely my own.

It’s an ugly grey day outside. The sky is heavy with clouds and the pavement is slick with sleet; the sun is no more than a ragged patchy glow in the gloom, low on the horizon. Steve pushes the hood of his hoodie back from his forehead, shivering when icy rain momentarily patters down. He’s sweating despite the cold, but his toes are freezing and his sweatpants are soaked to the knee with slushy water. He’s set a steady pace so far, and it’s a shorter route than he usually takes but he’s got company this morning. With weather this unpleasant, he won’t be unhappy when it’s done.

“Okay, we’re getting a divorce,” Tony pants next to him, wearing a windbreaker and shapeless track shorts, hair plastered to his head. His socks are wet. The rhythm of their pounding feet makes his words come out unevenly. “This is an irreconcilable difference. Oh my god, it’s cold.” 

“Almost home,” Steve says, and tries not to sound too fresh. The only thing Tony hates more than going for a run this early is when he’s wiped out after and Steve isn’t even winded. “Just a few more blocks.” He feels a little tongue-tied, his lips are numb with cold.

“I can’t feel my fucking feet,” Tony huffs, then stops talking and goes back to panting as they turn the last corner onto 5th Avenue. Steve lets himself fall back just an inch or two, just enough to give Tony a psychological boost, make him feel like he’s winning. He also gets to catch glimpses Tony’s ass from this position, clenching and flexing as Tony moves, so it’s win-win.

The Mansion appears eventually, and Tony staggers to a halt in the driveway, then immediately slips on a drift of wet leaves and has to briefly scramble to keep his footing. Steve makes sure that Tony doesn’t see his grin, pretending he urgently needs to tie his shoelaces. “You know you’re not fooling anyone,” Tony says darkly above his head. Steve looks up, and Tony tries to glare but ends up biting his lip on a rueful smile. 

Steve follows Tony into the mud room. Tony ignores the possibility of an audience as he shucks his soggy sneakers and socks and grabs a towel from a stack Jarvis keeps by the sink. He vigorously dries off his legs and arms and hair, then strips his shorts and leaves them in all a pile. He doesn’t look in the mood for small talk, but his mouth is already softening and there’s no real anger in his movements. Tony really, _really_ doesn’t like jogging, and Steve feels something warm run through him when he thinks about what it means that Tony’s still willing to go any time Steve asks.

Steve can’t help but stare at Tony, who’s rumpled and grumpy and shivering, but still doesn’t look even the least bit ridiculous, despite the fact that he’s wearing a windbreaker, underwear, and not much else. He thinks he might be grinning a bit goofily. Tony rolls his eyes and points at Steve’s legs.

“Off!” Tony says, and he disappears into the house. 

Steve quickly sheds his sweats and sneakers, and puts his clothes and Tony’s into a basket for Jarvis rather than just leaving them on the floor. He puts their shoes on a rack by the door, dries off with Tony’s discarded towel, and heads for the door. His sweat is cooling on his skin and the house has an early-morning chill, making him shiver.

Tony’s in the den, heater on and curled under a blanket on the sofa, already changed into clean, dry clothes. His hair is damp and his nose and ears are bright pink. Steve is pretty sure he’s doing his goofy grin again.

“Never again,” Tony is grumbling, even as he’s flipping the blanket up for Steve to crawl underneath. It’s the electric blanket, Steve realizes, and he blissfully curls his toes into the warmth. “Never fucking again. Why do I never learn?”

“Mmmmm,” Steve hums, letting his eyes fall shut as warmth seeps into his skin. He’s got Tony underneath him, hard muscle and poky elbows and warm skin, and he presses a kiss to whatever part of Tony he can reach—his throat, from the feel of stubble. “Thanks for coming with me.” 

Sleet rattles against the windows, and it’s dark and quiet. He’s sleepy, although he didn’t run that hard. Tony has a tablet in his hand and is poking at it, already past his griping. Steve breathes in Tony, breathes out the cold, and lets himself go.


End file.
